Ain't Tough Enough
by Yusuke'sSister
Summary: I wasn't tough enough to be a Greaser. I was too small and too timid. And I knew that I was a Curtis and Greasers stick together no matter what. But what I didn't know was my heart was meant for bigger things and someone, long ago, had claimed it.


**YS:** I do not own The Outsiders, only Holly. Enjoy!

* * *

_September 1962_

**Holly Ann Curtis's POV:**

I was probably the most gullible Greaser I knew…..or at least was the most gullible Curtis.

On the first day of September, two days before school started, I was up at the crack of dawn. Darryl, Darry for short who was my twenty year old brother and guardian, had promised the previous Wednesday that the entire family—my three brothers & I—would be doing something fun the last weekend before school began. I hadn't asked, since I was too excited, but I had the suspicion he had meant the lake uptown. Everyone in my neighborhood, who couldn't usually afford a lavish vacation, liked to spend the last week of the summer at the lake. There were ropes to swing from, places to fish, and there was always some blasted fool with a motorcycle trying to ride off of several large ramps. That was always fun to watch. When you're from the East side of town like me, where the hoodlum-like Greasers live, the lake was the next best thing to the drive-in theaters. My brothers and I, and most Greasers, couldn't afford to be like the Socials (Socs) on the West side, who get to spend their vacation in Florida. We just weren't that fortunate. And seeing how I had spent the majority of my summer out in the front yard pretending to be a gymnast, on a thin piece of lumber, the lake was a godsend. It would be the first return normalcy in eight months.

That morning I was too bundled up with excitement to really concentrate on putting my brittle golden hair into braids. I tried to be tuff, meaning cool, but my hands wouldn't quit shaking enough for me to wound the elastic around my hair, which took me two times more before I got it right. Instead, I focused on throwing on some ratty shorts that once fit me, though we're becoming a little too big, and a t-shirt that looked to be Pony's, my fourteen year older brother. It didn't seem very ladylike for a twelve year old to look as crummy as I did, but the frilly blue bathing suit would fix that. I had discovered under a pile of clothes and despite that it was a little bigger than necessary, I would change into it after breakfast. I had never worn that one before and I wasn't even sure if it was mine, but I didn't care. Not many good things happen to me, anyway.

In the cracked mirror above my dresser I could see my hazel mucky eyes twirling in anticipation as my knees bounced up and down. It took me nearly an entire ten minutes before I found my crummy pair of sneakers, falling apart at the sole, and a clean pair of socks. I was almost unable to fight a grin when Sodapop, my sixteen-going-on-seventeen older brother, came in to tell me how nice of a day it was outside. "You're in an awfully good mood, kiddo" Soda hummed as he gently tugged on one of my braids, "you'd think you ate some sunshine" I sloppily made my bed, giggled, and bolted down to the bathroom with jiggling legs. If Soda wanted to pretend he didn't know why, I didn't care. I would simply play along. While going to brush my teeth I practically ran into Darry, along the way, telling him I knew exactly what I wanted to do once we started the today. From his bedroom, Pony moaned that I needed to stop skipping around because I was being loud. And that was why, as I came out of my bedroom with a literal skip to my step, and walked into the kitchen, I was a little disappointed. My brothers were not dressed for the lake.

"Whadya mean 'yard work'?" I frowned in puzzlement a few minutes later as I twisted my blue bathing suit in my hands.

"What do _you _mean 'whadya I mean'?" Darry humorously asked to my 'girl' question. "I mean getting in our yard and working."

I cocked my head and bit my lip, something Pony said I did when in thought. "Doing what?"

"Soda's going to clear out the garage. I'm working on my truck. Pony and you are moving wood."

"But for what? Is someone, you know, coming over?" I was hinting about our monthly social worker, but Darry didn't notice.

"Tell me, does someone _have_ to come over for us to clean the house?"

It was in my mind to answer yes, but one of the few things I've learned about my brother Darry was that it's best to keep my comments to myself. Most of his questions were, after all, rhetorical. Then again I might have been okay if I responded. Darry didn't holler at me like he did Pony, who seemingly couldn't do anything the way Darry wanted him to. Seriously, Pony could have become the next Paul Newman, but Darry would still be bitter that "once-upon-a-time" Pony didn't do the dishes when asked. I was a little different. Darry had always need little quieter and understanding with me. "It's because you're small," Pony hissed one afternoon "everyone has to be nice to you. You're the runt." But being the youngest didn't void me of all arguments. I was only able to squeeze by a few when God felt kind or Soda quickly ushered me to my room before Darry could catch sight of me. I reckoned that's why Soda was always pawning me off on Johnny, a good friend of the family, when all hell broke loose in the Curtis house. I didn't like Darry to yell, but I reckoned becoming a guardian of three wasn't really on his list of things to do after high school. Neither was his construction job.

"If it's someone important, I guess," Pony said with a shrug for me.

"So what? We can't just clean up to clean up? We just can't be neat for a day?" Darry asked.

"So someone _is _coming over?"

"No. I just meant—"

"Boy, if someone _is _coming over…I hope it's…Rock Hudson," I murmured. He was from _The Last Sunset. _He had tuff hair.

"I hope it's the President, "Soda chuckled from the stove and bared his white teeth. "Wouldn't that be something, ya'll?"

"No," Darry sighed as he placed down his newspaper. "Stop it. No one is coming over."

"No one _like_ Rock Hudson?" I softly asked.

"What? No babe," Darry said with a roll of his eyes "no one is coming over at all."

"Except the President of the grand ol' US of A," Soda laughed.

"Don't encourage her."

"Then why in the _heck _are we working?" Pony asked with his eyebrow cocked.

"Because we need to and I said so," Darry said with a scowl. "It's about time we clear the boxes out of Holly's room."

I didn't doubt that. Since his legal change from our older brother to our guardian it seemed Darry was constantly giving orders simply because he said so. Just last week, I had been told to clean out the fridge for no reason, except for that "Darry had said so." Most of it was easy (do the dishes, help with dinner, get the mail, etc), but other days it was simply plain hard to see eye to eye. Pony and I just didn't think like Darry and were too different from him. Pony liked books, movies, and art, while Darry liked football, construction, and working out. I liked music and bananas, while Darry fidgeted with weights and ate hash. Darry liked Soda—everyone did--, but he never could stop grinning whenever Soda made a joke. It didn't seem like much was going to change. Besides, how could I see from his view? Darry was nearly an entire two feet taller than me!

I mean, we always have had to some extent respect Darry's decisions. He was the oldest, he knew how the real world worked, and he was too mighty powerful to _not _respect. Except unlike before, where we could always go to Mom and Dad if Darry got too bossy, now there was no one to run to. It was officially on paper. It wasn't for a few days, like when our folks would visit family, or a few short hours, like when he used to babysit. It was for our entire lives and unless we had wanted to lie on a lumpy mattress at a boy's or girl's home, Darry would just have to do. The 'because-I-said so-' replies were impenetrable. The 'I-told-you-so' remarks were unarguable. "He didn't have to keep us," Soda would tell me when I was upset. "He could have just saved up and gone to college, but he didn't and we have to be thankful. He kept us together." So, I tried because I couldn't imagine being without Soda for more than a few days and, in comparison to most kids in our neighborhood, we we're lucky.

Plus, Darry was just plain right. Since our parent's accident the boxes of their things have been littered around the house, eventually finding their place in my room. My room was tiny to begin with, with only a dresser, a nightstand, and a corner bed, but the boxes were beginning to overtake everything. Darry was doing his best to get them into the garage. I found myself, some nights, curled up in what I thought was my quilt, but was actually my mom's dress or my dad's sandy trousers that had fallen from a box overhead. And it was torture. When you're trying to overcome death, you don't want to remember them, let alone be found cradling their belongings in the wee hours of the morning. I didn't want to look at anything that was from before. I didn't want to hold anything from before. I didn't even want to talk about it. It was bad enough, my brothers refused to sell the piano in the kitchen. I didn't need much more. I couldn't take much more. I'd rather run into a burning building.

I felt my face scrunch in continuous confusion. "But you said, on Wednesday, we were doing something 'fun' this weekend…."

"We are. Yardwork _is _fun."

"Yeah, Holly, isn't yard work fun to you?" Pony grinned with half his yogurt in his mouth, waving his spoon around.

I twisted the bathing suit in my hands. "I…err… not really…"

"C'mon now, don't you get _really _jealous when those other kids clean _their _yards?"

More confusion. "But I never…see….anyone…um….outside working.…."

Pony feigned a gasp and then shot a look at an annoyed Darry. "Darry sees them _all _the time. Right?" Darry tried to ignore him.

"But everyone's going to the _lake _today, Pony" I said as I tugged his shirt. "Everyone always go to the lake the weekend before school."

"That's why were special" Pony mockingly chimed. "We get to do _yard work_."

"Watch it, Ponyboy" Darry hissed from across the table.

I think this a good time to mention that, past his quiet demeanor, Pony had a mouth. I don't mean around cops or adults or even the gang, because Pony was always good with them, but I meant at home where we knew him best. He may say he can keeps his mouth shut, but lemma tells ya just because he can, doesn't mean he will. He was smart, enough to be put in all the smart classes at his school, and nice when he wanted to be, but it was sometimes hard to remember since he recently gained a sudden love for comebacks. He also, as smart as he was, had a bad habit of never using his head. I swear, I mind boggled me why no one ever slapped the back of his head. I mean, Darry would never hit him, but sometimes I thought the fights between them got to be so bad that someone was eventually going to hit another. Sure, Darry wasn't always fair and kind. Sometimes Darry was rough without meaning to be, but it all could be avoided if everyone just hushed up. Momma always said that there was no point in sweating the small stuff, but boy oh boy Pony wouldn't have it. The small stuff was always sweated.

"Well, what if I had someone coming over?" Pony hypothetically questioned.

"Is Rock Hudson coming over?"

"No," Pony said rolling his eyes at me, "Rock Hudson would never come here. Have you seen _here?" _He gestured to the garbage littered living room.

"Maybe his car broke down…in…front of…our…house?"

"And what? _You're _going to save the day?"

"We have a phone to call for help…" I pouted. "And we could take him to the _lake _if he was bored." Pony gave me an incredulous look as Soda laughed and leaned over to kiss my forehead.

"If that's the case, Rock Hudson would never come back," Pony said with a wave of his hand to dismiss the idea.

Darry snorted. "Well _whoever_ comes over they can help. It wouldn't hurt."

"Wait. You're going to make Rock Hudson _work?" _Soda asked with smirk, but I knew his was joking.

By _whoever_ Darry meant the gang—Dally, Steve, Johnny, and Two-Bit—who we're round so often Darry called them 'pesky house cats.' They came and went as they pleased, usually wreaking havoc along the way, sleeping on our couch, joining in on dinner, or plain coming over to say hi. They were like four other brothers that liked all the benefits of a family, though never any of the work, and we actually enjoyed their company….most of the time. They watched our backs and they we're tough as nails, but they allowed Pony and I to tag along because we we're Darry and Soda's kid brother and sister. They also knew our folks real well, so I reckoned some of them felt guilty leaving us behind to fend for ourselves. It'd be breaking the Greaser rule: to stick together.

Aside from the guys, with the occasional girlfriend thrown in, we weren't friends with many beyond the gang. Sometimes it was too dangerous. Greasers are usually shifty people and you never knew if you were bringing a friend an ex-thief into your house. Sure, we kept our door open and we let people sleep on our couch, but—since we were trying not to make the social worker a daily visitor—Darry liked to be careful. Soda, a high school dropout, and Darry worked too much too many friends, but it was also rare Pony and I brought a friend from school over. Pony was too smart for Greasers for many of them to like him and Socs didn't like Greasers anyway. I was just plain socially inept. I had all of two Greasers friends and we never made an effort to hang outside of school. I was too much of a nervous wreck anyhow.

"What if," Pony said just eager to be right, "it was a girl? You're not going to make _her _work too, right?"

"Then she can work with Holly…." Darry whipped back equally bitter.

"Carrying wood? That's real polite" Pony snapped.

"Hey, you know a girl, Pone?" Soda asked with a goofy grin and slapped Pony's back. "Good for you, man."

"I might…" Pony grumbled. Darry rolled his eyes like Pony.

"That'll be the day."

"Well, I might!"

Then Darry laughed…really loudly. I mean, _really_ loudly. I thought that's why the dog next door started to bark. It would have been alright if Sodapop said he had found a girl. Soda, though a one woman kind of guy, was notoriously getting seconds looks from girls because he was handsome. Sometimes I wasn't even sure if he and I we're related. He was a catch. He was the only Greaser I knew that didn't lope around getting drunk or was unable to remember his girlfriend's name because he had four others on the side. He was a rarity. He got drunk plain off of living and his mention of a girl would have passed by under the radar with ease. But this was Ponyboy, whose ears turned red, if a pretty girl just simply walked by our front yard. Pony was handsome too and he had that sensitive side that everyone likes, but he was always so busy being tongue-tied that he never could prove it. Girls would have liked him if they just gave him a chance. On the other hand, I wasn't much better. I could hardly make a complete sentence without stammering more than usual when a guy smiled at me. I had a suspicion my brothers liked it that way.

Pony glared heatedly at Darry as Darry picked up his coffee cup and went to get more from the pot, chuckling along the way. Pony knew he wasn't too slick when girls we're around, but he hated even more that Darry found it funny. Boy howdy….Pony hated Darry laughing at him almost more than he hated Darry hollering. I looked at Sodapop, who was wide-eyed, over a sizzling pan of bacon and fumbling with the Cheerios box overhead. I reckoned he sensed a fight coming. I did my best to make as much noise as I pulled my kitchen chair, sat on my knees in the seat, and placed my bathing suit on the table. It was an effort to make so much noise Pony would forget his anger, but it was no use, I could still see it. I could see Pony's brain fighting with a snappy and poisonous comeback as his gray-green eyes put daggers in Darry's back. I even saw him, in hopes to distract his thoughts, push the strands of his long, brown, and greasy hair behind his pale ears. All the while Darry ignored him, whistling as he made his coffee, as if Pony would simply let the problem melt away. I cringed when Pony adjusted himself in the chair, faced Darry, and opened his mouth.

"Holly!" Sodapop shouted as he slammed the box of Cheerios in front of me, making the room grow quiet. The table shook and then he smiled at me slightly.

"I…..uhm...huh?"

He darted his eyes at my bathing suit and placed his arm on the back of my chair. "So, why's is your bathing suit out?"  
----------------------------------------

All I wanted to do that Saturday was go to the lake, but no.

Darry spent a decent amount of the early morning instructing Ponyboy and I on the proper way to carry wood from the backyard to the front. That was without hurting ourselves, via lifting with the knees not the back. I wasn't exactly certain the purpose of this job, but I was too distracted by Darry's demonstration--when he carried nine logs at once--to remember to ask. However, Ponyboy, who has a short fuse with Darry nowadays, found these simple instructions insulting to his intelligence and sarcastically muttered that our oldest brother simply liked to show off his muscles. In return, though my two oldest brothers often affectionately called me "scrawny," Darry wittily suggested that I perhaps could carry more logs than Pony, which did nothin', but add to the flame of anger between them. I found myself groaning a lot after each of Pony's side comments. Then, once Darry was certain he had gone over the guidelines, he sternly told Pony, as if I wasn't there, not to allow me to carry more than I could. This was _Pony's _job and I was merely an assistant, not Pony's work horse to exert power on. "Remember," Darry threatened "you may be older than her, but I'm older than both of you."

That being said....we lasted a good..... forty minutes?

Nowadays I know that unless I wanted Pony's frustration with Darry to unleash on me, I have to keep my trap shut. In the past it was unlikely that Pony, who I shared the quiet trait with, would be as irrational as to holler at me. Hewas bright as a new bulb and could withdrawal from yelling if necessary. However these days, Pony's moods we're as unpredictable as Soda's dinners. Yes, he was logical when necessary, but Pony gradually seemed to ignore his better judgment. He would channel his anger at the first person he could find, whether it be me, Darry, or even one of the gang, though never Soda. Pony loved Soda too much to argue with him. And as quiet and timid as I was I also had the unfortunate luck of walking in at the wrong time. The normal sister-brother fights, if not a joke or solved quickly, could heighten into a disaster. Soda was continuously coming to my side with soft promises and a rational solution for Pony. Sometimes it settled and other times Pony would grow jealous that Soda, who lovingly said I was "too nervous by nature," took my side. Then if Darry came home well...hold your hats.....the small battle turned into war. Luckily, most of it settled. I promise you, Pony's as loving when he thinks its right, but when in anger its best not to test him.....especially when that hate is directed towards Darry.

That in mind, I walked on eggshells around him. I didn't speak. I didn't look him in the eye. When he ordered me to put my arms out, so he could hand me three light logs to carry, I simply did. I listened to all of his directions, which we're similar to Darry's, but in words I understood. I also pretended to be impressed by his armful of six logs, to which he gave me an 'I-know-your-joking' sneer. Pony had a good build, but I still was able to wiggle free from some of our playful wrestling. It was only as I hummed the theme song to the Andy Griffith Show, and Pony lightheartedly whistled (something I enjoyed listening to because I could not whistle a lick) that I realized most of the tension had eased. I was behaving and it was clear that Pony, with a smug expression, was satisfied with my silent obedience. Nevertheless, because I was Holly Ann Curtis and God had long ago graciously selected me to be his meaningless source of entertainment, I made a mistake.

"I am not!" I playfully cried with doubt. Pony added a fifth log to his armful and gave me a disbelieving look, probably regretting his 'short' comment earlier.

"Yeah you are. You're like four feet," he said as he put his free hand above my head to check. "That's small."

"I'm four feet seven!" I whined as I dug through the wood pile, mid-waist in lumber. "The doctor measured!"

"So?" he rolled his eyes "four foot seven is still small."

"No it's not," I argued, grabbing a wide log in my thin hands and hoisting it above my head, so I could swim out of the pile.

Pony chewed his bottom lip in thought and ignored me. "You know...you'd probably _die _if someone fell on you."

"I would not, liar."

"You never know..."

"Quit it!"

"Maybe we should test it out," he teased, trying to stand over me for a perfect landing, permanently crippling me for life.

"I said stop," I begged and threw my hands down, which made the wood slip from my hands and fall hard on Pony's toes.

Oh….enter Holly's terrible mistake.

"Ow!" Pony howled, immediately dropping his wood and hobbling on his better foot. "For Christ's sake, Holly!"

For a few minutes I forgot how to breathe. In the privacy of the backyard Pony cussed things under his breath that I knew better than to repeat unless I enjoyed the taste of soap. That was how I knew he was really mad. Pony never cursed. I tried to apologize and consistently ask if he was alright, but Pony couldn't hear it over his outward conclusion that I had done this on purpose, that I couldn't take a joke. I tried to assure him that I hadn't even thought about it, but this only led to him determining that I somehow didn't care for his health. He spun in two full circles before dramatically dropping to the ground pulling off his sock, and insisting that I had bruised his foot in some vague area. I didn't see anything. I said nothing. At least I didn't say much without stuttering. I tended to freeze up when anyone got mad at anyone, but Pony's especially gifted at making anyone feel worse than they already do. It's similar to how Darry's special at being the loudest in an argument. Talking would just feed the fire. I knew most of Pony's anger, his words, were still fuming from Darry's inconsideration earlier, but I couldn't help feel the heat creep on the back of my neck. Heat that was, without a doubt, not from the overbearing sunshine.

"I'm sorry, Pony..." I managed to wheeze out breathlessly.

"Good, Holly Ann," he hissed "good for you!"

"I really am...."

"I hope you are!" My eyes stung with tears. Pony was the last person I wanted mad.

"I said--"

Pony glared furiously. "I don't care! Just shut up!" I held my breath and winced, ready for the blow.

"Hey!" I heard Soda shout, as he ducked underneath a dying tree and came into view. "Hey kiddos! What's with the screaming? I can't hear the radio."

Oh, what a sight for schoolgirls. Soda was shirtless, only in blue jeans and sneakers, and as he seemed to be catching his breath, probably from heavy lifting in the humid garage, sweat rolled down the back of his neck. His hat from the DX gas station, where he works, hung loosely between his right fingers because he dared not to mess his perfect slicked dark gold hair. He swigged a Coke in his left hand. His cheekbones we're reddened and though his dark brown eyes weren't dancing today, I hoped he could ease the tension with a joke. He squinted, wetting his lips to savor the taste of his drink, and approached us closer with shifty eyes. It was only then that I realized how ridiculous I must have looked: half-drowned in the wood pile and in my socks. Not that the neighbors particularly cared, since they did stranger things than we did, but Soda's expression read confused and made me realize this was not the right image to project on our family. I could practically see him fighting between the ideas that I had solely climbed into the pile or Pony threw me in there and now I couldn't get out. Either way he seemed concerned, while with Pony he just seemed baffled that he was part shoe-less.

"Holly....what...in the--how did you--are you......where are everyone's shoes?" Soda asked as he shielded his eyes to see me, put his Coke down, and walked closer.

"Soda!" Pony announced "I don't want her _help_ anymore!"

I shakily released my breath. "I didn't mean it, I swear."

"She's clumsy and mad that I called her small," Pony stated "but she _is _Soda. She's _small. _"

"I sure ain't. I'm four feet seven...." I cried. Soda closed his eyes while trying to follow us, but eventually could only exchange glances between us.

Pony narrowed his green critiquing eyes bitterly at my head. "It's the same thing! You didn't have to_ throw_ a log at me!"

"I said I di-didn't mean to..." I tried to say, my eyes scrunching up with blurry tears. Stupid Holly. "I didn't throw it. It _fell."_

"Ugh! I'll show _you _what fell!" Pony sourly snarled as he made a step foreword to grab my arm.

"Woah! Hey! Woah!" Sodapop interjected, stepping between Pony and myself. "No one is showing _anyone _what fell."

"She--"

"--didn't mean it, Pone," Soda insisted, putting his hands defensively in front of him. "C'mon man. You know it was an accident."

"So? She's old enough to know to take the blame!" Pony said, flailing his arms in great aggravation.

Soda gave Pony a hard look before pointing to the sun. "Listen, your both just overheated. Put on your shoe and relax."

"It's early _September_!"

"And it's hot out, so go sit in the shade---" Soda calmly pointed by the shade by the kitchen back door--"put on your shoe, and_ relax_."

Pony gave Sodapop a long heated stare before he obediently sat down by the back door, unhappily rammed his shoe back on, and violently tied his laces. Soda only stared as if he was waiting for Pony to argue, but Pony kept silent. There was no doubt in my mind that if anyone else, but Sodapop, came strolling along to solve the dilemma Pony would have kept arguing. As bright as he was, Ponyboy was also--like Darry--ridiculously stubborn and sometimes, like the sun, was overheated with so much anger he couldn't help, but explode. But Sodapop is special. He has ability to make you feel important or loved just by looking at you. I reckoned that's why so many people liked his company. The bond between Pony and Soda was strong, seeing how they shared a room, and it's hard for Pony to get mad at the one person he held near and dear to his heart. And though personally I've never directly become angry with Soda I have been known to run to him for comfort, even when I don't think I need it. Maybe it's in his eyes because not even Mom and Dad could stay mad at Soda for too long. The only person who could possibly defeat Soda was Darry, who was known for lashing out on Soda if he tried defending us, which drove me insane almost as badly as it killed Pony.

I let out a sneeze.

Suddenly, I existed again. Soda gallantly turned and calmly grabbed my arm to pull me out the log pile, signifying that it was safe to come out. I furiously wiped my wet lashes before Sodapop could get a good look at me and check if I was alright. When Soda was certain my face wasn't scratched or my feet had not suffered the same fate as Pony's poor feet, Soda gave me a small smile. Then, he pushed me towards the cool shade. Self-consciously I patted my hair and brushed the pieces of dirt that stuck to my shirt, before giving a weak smile back. My socks were wet with moss and I felt little. Sodapop was consistently treating me like four instead of twelve, so I always felt younger in Soda's eyes, Darry's especially. My brother Darry worried, but Sodapop babied. Sometimes he even would lay next to me until I fell asleep for bed or wake me by whispering in my ear like my Dad used to. Darry didn't. He considered his affection to be evident in simply feeding us breakfast. Plus, when I worried Darry he liked to yell or remind me who was in charge, but Soda would hug me and make me promise never to scare him again.

"Here," Soda said as crouched over Ponyboy's turned back and handed him the rest of his cold drink. "Cool off, man."

"Yeah. Thanks," Pony muttered and took a swig of the Coke.

"You know, Grease, you're smart and all, but" Soda nonchalantly mused "just cause your mad at Darry doesn't mean you _can _take it out on Holly either. You nearly scared the wits out of her."

"So, what's new? She cries about everything."

Soda glared at Pony's cowlick, but seemed to not act upon his thought. "She's a kid, Pone. Kids cry."

"I _know_," Pony grumbled as he picked some discolored grass. "That's why she should listen to _me."_ Uh....wait....wait a second....

"That's not fair!" I said. "I don't cry all the time!" Soda looked at me in the corner of his left eye.

"Holly, hush up" He said with a turn and forced his DX cap onto my head, over my eyes. "It's okay."

"You see what I mean, Soda!"

"C'mon Ponyboy, you know Holly, and 'sides you're older."

"So? What's that mean?"

"It means that you don't let her bug you. _Be _the _older _brother, Pone, and hold your tongue. Ya dig?" I lifted the cap above my eyes.

"Yeah..." Pony trailed in thought, ditching all plans for my death. "Fine."

Uh hi? What just....did Pony just....um....

Seconds after, before I could make my case, the back kitchen door was pushed open. With an arched skeptical eyebrow Darry stood in the doorway with damp dark brown hair, a butter knife in one hand, and a slice of bread with mayo in the other. He, unlike Soda, wore an old rolled up blue t-shirt and jeans that were cut in the knees, though this did not exempt him from a schoolgirl's flirty stare, I'm sure. Darry wedged his large brown work boot between the screen door and the wall, giving all of us a strange look. Our expression must have been sneaky enough that we seemed like we were been secretly planning a surprise party. His broad shoulders heaved up and down and had to scrunch his pale blue-green ice eyes to adjust to the light. In anticipated anger, I found myself pulling Soda's cap over my eyes again.

"What's going on?" Darry said carefully. "I heard screaming. Who's screaming?" I had the hat over my head, but I knew Darry was looking at me.

"Nothing. No one."

I reckoned Darry gave Pony a sharp look. "Did you _do _something to her? Don't you ever think? I told you--"

"I didn't do anything!"

"Nothing's going on, Dar" Soda interrupted quickly, coming to the rescue. "We we're just saying that it's hot out, so everyone's a little hot and hungry."

"Yeah," Pony quietly mumbled "is there anything to eat, like, at all?"

Again, I imagined Darry giving Pony a rude expression as he flared his nostrils, probably mentally counting to ten. This took a lot of effort. Darry didn't normally count to ten, especially with Pony, and didn't tend to pause in mid conversation. He was much less intolerant with our attitudes nowadays that the idea of counting to ten was usually forgotten. He'd rather cut straight to the chase, maybe not to necessarily yell, but definitely solve it quickly, so he could move on with his life. From time to time, however, Darry was able to restraint himself from raising his voice, which was a common factor that made us grow defensive, thus initiating many of the petty fights. I was more than pleased. Darry could care less about food or Pony's insinuation there was never anything to eat, but Pony's tone was just terse enough to make Darry reconsider. I was glad he ignored his instinct. If anyone was better at being Darry than Darry it was Pony. I should know. Pony was _my _Darry.

"I'm making sandwiches for lunch," Darry announced after a deep breath "so come inside to tell me what it is that you like on it."

"I like anything, except turkey" Soda hummed. "Do we have hot sauce? I want mine with hot sauce. What about peppers? I could..."

Darry sighed tiredly as Soda rattled mindlessly to himself. "Then which one of you guys _does_ like the turkey and cheese?"

"That's Holl," Pony briskly informed him. I lifted the cap over my watery eyes, still sour from Soda's injustice.

I tried not to make direct eye contact with Darry, but from the corner of my eye I knew he was questioning his eyesight. I knew better. Darry would use my watery tears as a means to yell at Pony, just to make sure he didn't forget who was in charge. Curtis World War Trillion would begin; icy words would spill from loose lips, and before you know it no one gets a sandwich. Lunch would blindly and cruelly be thrown in the garbage in the moment of Darry's anger, whether we we're done or not, so he could slam the cupboard and scare Pony a little. Then, in realization what he did, Darry would tear through the trash, dig them out, and insist it was a waste of money if we didn't eat it. In the end, Darry would storm out front, Pony would retreat to his room, Soda would go hungry in an attempt to soothe Pony, and I've got last week's spoiled cheese spread all of my Wonder Bread. It wasn't right. I was hungry. They we're innocent sandwiches. Why throw them around like rag dolls? I swiftly rubbed my eyes again as Darry spoke louder.

"You're the turkey and cheese, right Holl?" he questioned, holding the slice of bread, with a 'please-say-it-is' look.

Darry's unfamiliarity with our preferences caused many past meal failures. He was always trying hard to get it right. I didn't have the heart to tell him I hated mayo. "Yah huh. I am."

"Yeah?" He studied my expression, gave Soda a weary look, and narrowed his eyes at me. "And your okay?"

"You got it right," I told him delicately as I side-stepped the question. "Turkey and cheese."

"With mayo?" he asked carefully with a little bit of an 'I'll-be-so-proud-of-myself-if-it's-right' tone.

Er....no. "Yup," I lied "mayo's fine."

Before Darry could connect the pieces and realize I had fibbed, Pony stood up. He ducked underneath Darry's arm and entered the kitchen only to begin to question Darry on what was and wasn't expired. This was clearly not a means to argue, it was purely curiosity. Darry followed and through the windowsill, I could him try to guarantee Pony that by eating something that expired only yesterday he was not going to immediately die on the kitchen floor. Pony tried to make a dry joke that if he vomited, he'd aim for Darry. I couldn't hear Darry's response. I just imagined he made a sarcastic comment. Similar to Soda, we both let out a relieved sigh, though I couldn't help, but pout as I walked across the backyard towards the house. I try not to whine too much, because it's not tuff, but I felt a little cheated. Soda shouldn't have made _me _be the bad guy. I hadn't done anything wrong and _was_ really sorry I hurt Pony. It's not like I _purposely _threw the log onto Pony's foot for a good laugh. I wasn't mean. I didn't even tell Darry. But time and time again, people work behind me, hushing me up and tiptoe around me like I didn't have the sense to catch on.

"Baby," Soda whispered, grabbing my wrist before I could pass him. "It's not tuff to pout, you know."You want to be tuff, don't you?"

I debated whether to complain and averted my eyes. "That wasn't fair... " I softly trailed, "you took his side..."

Soda placed a hand on my back, crouched down, and leaned in to hear me better. "Awe, but baby I.....you see I....well...you can't let Pone bug you."

"But I didn't _mean _to...." I cried through a croaky whine. "I didn't know."

"I know hun," Soda soothed. "But it's better to just agree and leave him alone when he's mad. He's too stubborn for his own good. You don't want a fight, do ya?"

"No, but he _shouted _at me, Soda. You should have seen his face."

Sodapop snorted. "Don't let him fool you. Pony's the least scary of anyone. He's just an old man stuck in a fourteen year old body." I kept my frown.

"That ain't fair. At all. I didn't do nothing." He gave me look as if to say 'you-said-that-wrong." When I was upset I often messed up my words.

"Holly....._you _know Darry's hard on him. You know he doesn't mean it. Remember? Remember what I told you last time?"

I stomped my foot for epenthesis, my lips with a small quiver. "But he _is_ just like Darry, Soda."

"Not always.....just lately, more than usual."

I felt my eyes well with tears a smidge. Do not cry, Holly. "And I didn't mean it, honest, Soda. I really didn't."

"I know. I heard you." Soda assured me as he rubbed my shoulder. "But he still loves you, honey. We all do. Darry just bugs him sometimes. Okay?"

"But I--"

"Please, Holly, pleeeease?" Soda delicately begged as he lightly shook me. "Don't give Darry a reason to holler, huh? Please just eat lunch quietly. For me?"

Oh....Soda. What a dirty trick, you sneak; he knew I'd do just about anything to make him happy. He was the last person, as I often admitted that I ever wanted to see _unhappy. _It didn't suit him. It wasn't Soda. I learned early on that, like his laughter, Soda's sadness was too contagious. If he broke, the whole house came down with him: Pony and Darry would fight more than usual, Soda's dinners would became normal, and I would have to hide in my bedroom just to avoid the flying furniture. I mean, not that Sodapop allowed much to bother him, but sometimes his worries caught up and tackled him. Sometimes it became too much to handle. And though we, even Darry, all had a soft spot for Soda we always somehow messed up. He always, one way or the other, ended back in the middle with his hands up for peace. I never asked, but I knew it drove him crazy. I knew he got frustrated. I knew if I could behave my very best I could loosen the reins on Soda's back. If not me at least Sandy could, his seven month blonde-haired girlfriend. She, like Soda, knew how to ease the burden and make a joke --or whatever it was that made his eyes dance and his cheeks red once he came home from one of their late dates. She was his saving grace, his girl, his every day reminder there was still love out there. That there was a world beyond the Curtis's house. And every day....I thanked God for her.

And Soda knew it. Soda knew I didn't like it when he was in the middle. He knew I hated the hollering because he often caught me covering my ears. He even knew, the only reason Darry got me to do half of the things I needed to do, peacefully that is, was because of Soda. I just responded better to Soda's kinder disposition. Darry usually had me in tears the minute his voice raised or he grabbed me, all with good intention, and was too rough without meaning to be. Plus, he never watched me like Darry did, who liked to stand over me with serious eyes. Darry ordered, Soda asked. I mean, I loved Darry too, even Pony, but sometimes I just forgot. Some days it was hard to love them or my heart only had room for Soda.

I shut my eyes in defeat, counted to five, and took a deep breath. I wouldn't have argued or snitched on Pony to begin with 'cause it just plain _wasn't tuff_. I may have been young, but I knew better. "A Greaser doesn't snitch on a Greaser" Dally, an icy mean family friend, informed me one afternoon. If I wanted to be tuff, which I usually did, I had to pay the price. As a result, Pony hardly ever got told on and sometimes, when he knew I wanted to, he would rummage some money to buy me candy; I think to bribe me off. Today, though, I told myself, since I was so angry with Pony, to do it because I hated the yelling. That Soda was correct and, in some deep dark place in his heart, Pony hadn't meant it. I had just been there at the wrong time. Still, I regretted nodding my head to the question and allowing the conversation to end. Nothing was solved. Life had moved on. Pony had won. What a trick, Sodapop Curtis.

"Good, now let's go eat," Soda insisted as he rubbed his tired hands together, pushing me along.

"But Soda..." I started seriously as I looked up at him.

"Hmmm?"

"I'm four foot seven and that's not small, okay?"He held the door open for me with a grin he couldn't hold back.

"Oh baby," Soda laughed "I'm sorry, but you _are_ small." I stepped through into the cool kitchen with my mouth half-opened, giving a Soda a hurt look.

"But that's okay," Soda said as I passed him, grabbing a glass to get some juice. "I like my kid sister that way."

"Me too," Darry agreed, clearly just hearing the end of conversation, and handing me my mayo-lathered sandwich on a paper plate.

"Yep," Pony chimed in, before sinking his teeth into already his half-eaten sandwich. "If something ever fell on you, you'd be dead." Uh, hadn't we discussed this earlier?

"Don't say that...." Darry mumbled as he made himself two sandwiches at the counter. I gave a frown, sat down at the table, and stared at my sandwich in silent disgust.

I gave Pony a look as he raised his eyebrows in mock. "That ain't true..."

"Holly...." Soda warned under his breath as he leaned over me, handed me some juice, and pushed his cap back over my eyes. "Don't."

"But I really ain't...."

"Eat your lunch," Soda ordered softly in my ear "Darry's watching." Then he patted me on the back, before grabbing his own lunch, and plopped into the seat across from me.

When I adjusted the hat, I realized Soda was right. I could see in the corner of my eye that Darry was indeed watching my sandwich with great attention just waiting for me to take the first bite. I think he did this mostly to see if had gotten my order correct, so he could mentally applaud himself, but I know he also enjoyed seeing me eat. My scrawniness, as the social workers usually liked to point out, tended to worry him and he often insisted I needed to eat. He was continuously feeding me, offering minute-made snacks or second helpings, in hopes I would somehow fill out. It was no use. My outfits we're always a little baggy, my helpings were always a bit smaller, and--while wrestling--everyone had to take extra care not to kill me in the fun. Boy.....did Darry hate someone rough-housing with me. I mean, there were always some minor bruises or headaches, but I always turned out okay. I always came out with ten fingers, ten toes, and all my eyesight. But Darry, who at times didn't even like me sick, still kept trying to feed me and I just found it exhausting. I spent an entire morning the previous weekend eating two bowls of cereal just so Darry would let me go to the store with Soda.

I had half the courage to wittingly tell Darry that I would like some bread with my mayo. Except then I realized, after Soda's belch and Pony's loud chewing, that Darry's pleading eyes we're still on my hands, simply waiting for me to eat. I felt bad. Though he did try, he didn't have much of a knack of getting our school lunches right. Many times I had to suffer the undesirable taste of a fruit cocktail that Darry added as an afterthought to my limp sandwich and stale cookies. Seeing me eat the sandwich would be a much needed victory for him. So, how in the blazes could I argue that? How could I turn and open my mouth to express my long unfriendly relationship with mayonnaise? I just couldn't and realized, after Soda lightly tapped my thigh with his foot underneath the table, that I had no other choice. Today, Darry's discontent with himself could only land on Pony's lucky shoulders. I had the ability to change the entire afternoon with one mere suggestion and Soda knew. But, like I said, I just don't have the heart to be mean. I would have to sink my teeth into the gooey thick spread. It's just the way things worked.

So, I did, for Darry....and Soda...and maybe just a little for Pony.

The unbearable silence was gone. Soda seemed to quickly sigh in relief when I had complied, biting jovially into his popcorn-peanut butter sandwich, and trying to playfully swat Pony's head after he made a joke. He wouldn't say it right then, but I knew he was proud of me for being so nice. As for me? Well...I was a just thankful Darry relaxed from behind me. I was just glad he wasn't watching me finish like he did last week when he made toast.....burnt toast. I chewed with much distaste, but no one noticed. With some unexpected change in mood, Darry grinningly took his two sandwiches and joined us at the table. He sat to my left, Pony to my right, and Sodapop across from me with his back to the front door. Happily, as we let the sweat melt on the back of our necks, Soda began to describe us a vague story about a pretty girl at the DX.....who spent several funny minutes trying to find the gas tank on her car. As Soda finished, I realized that Darry's were on me, waiting for me to swallow the first bite I had so successfully bit off my sandwich. I didn't want to, but I forced myself to finish. With my eyes shut tight and head slightly bent, I swallowed and coolly grabbed my orange juice, when Darry wasn't looking, to wash away the taste.

With a confused look Pony stared. Then, as he finished his crust, he harmlessly blurted out. "Since when did you like mayo?" Ponyboy...I could just...

Soda seemed slightly frozen. "Huh?" I asked innocently, gulping down the last of my juice.

"You've never eaten mayo on your sandwiches before," he noted innocently.

"What are you talking about?" I shrugged. "I always have my sandwich with mayo."

"No. You hat-"

"Pony..." Soda warned. Darry grew thought wrinkles on his forehead, un-amused by our behavior.

"I'm just saying," Pony whispered. "She hat--" Too late. I already had forced myself another quick bite and swallow before he could argue. That shut him right up.

Soda was less than shocked. "Are you sure it's okay, Holly?" Darry firmly asked. "Not too much turkey, right?"

"No way," I said through deep breaths, forcing down a second swallow, and working on my third. "It's perfect." Good glory Holly....shut...your...trap.

In triumph, Darry smiled and walked over to the counter to pull out more bread. "Good. I'll make you another, scrawny."

With my sandwich mid-raised to my mayo white lips, I shut my eyes in defeat. Holy smokes, I would be the first kid I know to die due to mayo overload. Pony gave an apologetic look. He hadn't meant it as deliberately mean as it sounds. Sure, Pony would get mad at me, but he hardly ever tried to set me up against Darry. Pony knew Darry was too scary for me to handle and wouldn't be as vicious as to let me take the blow. Pony was just observant and known for making daily notes, like people's appearances or the way they acted. I reckoned it was because it made it easier for him to draw them. I only wished...that he kept my 'no-mayo-ever' preference in his head, so I didn't to have to spend my lunch practically eating out of the jar. Hopelessly under pressure I couldn't think of a quick enough response to stop Darry. My brain seemed to temporarily shut down and glue my lips together. Shifting uncomfortably in my chair, I felt tears brim my lashes and purposely avoided Darry's hopeful stare when he placed sandwich number two in front of me.

Needless to say, I was more than happy to accept Pony's sudden offer to grab me more juice.

I was even happier, that when Darry went to the bathroom, Sodapop leaned over across the table, and took a big bite of my second mayo lunch....just to rescue me.

* * *

**YS:** ……hey everybody! How are all of you? Good? Let's hope so. Listen, this is my second attempt to work at _Ain't Tough Enough_. I have the storyline a bit, but I have my reasons for starting over, which hopefully will be even better from the last try. I will not start over this one simply because I'm in college now and my time is limited to continuously be deleting and re-starting stories. I can only hope that this works better this time around. Anyway, I hope and pray that if you're new, or if you are coming back, to join me and Holly again that you are patient with both of us and keep an open-mind. I'm doing my very best and would love some feedback. Please review! If you have any other questions….for me or this story…feel free to hit me up on my twitter: CassieMeShelly or form spring: CassMeShell368 . You can go into my profile to find those. My PM box on here and I have not been friends lately. Thanks!


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